


let's hear it for the boys

by starscry (orphan_account)



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, Matchmaking, joe and andy like to meddle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 08:59:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4600818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/starscry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joe and Andy play matchmaker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let's hear it for the boys

“It’s like we’re third and fourth-wheeling and they aren’t even dating, y’know?” Joe asks, pulling his eyes away from the Buzzfeed quiz on his phone screen that someone had linked him to earlier and glancing at Andy. 

The drummer’s face remains passive, barely giving the words acknowledgement; Joe squints to see what he’s looking at on his iPad and it’s a comic or some shit because, of course, Andy _would_. He heaves a sigh, rolling onto his stomach where he lies on the floor, and shooting the couple in question an exasperated look. 

Patrick and Pete are sitting together on one of the couches in the pre-concert lounge room they’ve all been chilling in for the past hour or so, both staring intently at something on Patrick’s laptop. Pete’s got a wide smile on his face, teeth flashing bright. It’s genuine. Not like his usual shit-eating grin reserved for most everyday interactions, or the slightly reserved-yet-enthusiastic smile he uses for interviews and the like. Joe stifles a groan, face against his forearm on the floor. He watches Pete press closer to Patrick, leaning his chin on the younger’s shoulder, pointing at something on the screen. 

Joe smacks Andy’s incredibly firm calf, marvelling for a moment at the wonders Crossfit can do for the body, and gestures toward the dynamic duo. Andy looks up, brow quirked. 

“It’s like they don’t even know, dude. Look at them, all cuddly together,” Joe whispers to the other man, palms upraised in a _what the fuck?_ gesture.

Andy offers nothing more than a simple shrug. “They’ve always been that way. What are we supposed to do about it?”

He sighs, rolling over onto his back, and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. He thinks, and thinks, and _thinks_. If they weren’t going to come to the realization on their own, someone needs to give them a friendly smack on the ass to push them to it. Joe grins. Nudges Andy with an elbow.

“I’ve got an idea.”

\- - -

“You want to play matchmaker.” Andy deadpans later, after Joe has finished explaining the outline of his idea to the drummer. Joe nods. Andy sighs. _Deeply._

“How do you plan to get them together?”

“I dunno,” Joe replies, shrugging nonchalantly. “Get them both drunk, shove ‘em in a utility closet or something, wait for them to play seven minutes in Heaven on their own?”

Andy purses his lips, frowning. “Something like this requires more finesse. We need to make a real plan.”

“So you’re on board then, dude?” Joe asks, and the other man presses his mouth in a firm line, eyes cast downward in thought, not giving a straight answer.

“All right - how about this. We make a bet. The person that succeeds gets to, like, make the loser do something embarrassing. Drink his own piss on stage like Pete did that one time. Or something.”

“Or something,” Andy agrees. “Fine. I’m in.”

“May the best matchmaker win.”

\- - - 

“Eagle One is making a move. I repeat, Eagle One is entering his dressing room. Over.” Joe makes a static-y noise with his mouth into the phone that’s pressed against his cheek. His eyes follow Patrick as the singer in question props open his door, and Joe quickly moves to stand with his front to the wall nearby, giving him a good view of Patrick while still remaining out of sight.

“Why are you calling me, again?” Andy’s voice replies over the phone, and Joe can hear the exasperation lacing the other man’s tone. “Also, _Eagle One_? You’ve been watching too much Parks  & Rec again.”

“I just thought I’d give you a little inside look - er, inside.. hear, of my impending success.”

“What’d you do?”

“Sent some flowers from Pete.”

Joe leans a bit, balancing on his toes, and watches Patrick. The other man gives the flowers a skeptical look; it’s a nice bouquet of various kinds, and a little white card is folded up and neatly place among the blooms. Patrick opens it and Joe holds his breath, waiting to gauge his reaction.

“‘Love you, hot lips. Love, Pete. Haha, just kidding, don’t write that, just write ‘from Pete’ on it.’” Patrick blinks. “What?”

Joe mentally curses, and then says, “shit, dude!” into the phone. He can hear Andy snort on the other end. 

“Trouble in paradise?”

“The flower company just wrote down everything on the little card. Like, _everything_.”

He sees Pete walking down the hallway and inches forward from where he’d been pressed against the wall, doing his best to act casual. Pete gives him a little _’sup_ nod in greeting and strolls past him into Patrick’s room.

“Did you send these?” Joe can hear the singer asking Pete. He can see them in the room from the corner of his eye and Pete takes the card from Patrick’s hands, reads over the words, and bursts into laughter.

“Nope, but I kinda wish I had. _Hot lips_ , that’s a good one.”

Patrick shoots him a death glare in response.

Joe sighs. Back to square one.

\- - - 

They’re in LA for a few days when Andy decides to set his own plan in motion. Everyone has a bit of downtime inbetween interviews, so he suggests a beach day, and the four of them squeeze into a car together and drive down to Venice Beach.

The sun is shining bright and it’s fairly hot out; Joe, Pete, and Patrick are busy putting sunscreen on eachother when Andy spots what he came here for. He slips away while they’re distracted, makes his way to the little jetski rental place that’s on the other side of the banners that separate the surf section of the beach from everything else, and rents three of them.

“I got us some jetskis,” he says upon his return, and Pete fistpumps the air in response. 

The bassist is busy slathering sunscreen all over Patrick’s back, shoulders, and neck. “I swear, your skin is whiter than the arctic tundra. I feel like I need to, like, coat you in a layer of zinc or something to keep you from getting sunburnt,” Andy hears him say, laughter lacing his tone. Patrick huffs a bit, pulling a t-shirt over himself once Pete’s done, and dusting the sand off his board shorts as he walks over to Andy and Joe.

“Sweet, I’ve never actually jetskied before,” Patrick says. “This should be fun.”

Andy mentally rubs his hands together. From the corner of his eye, he can see the skepticism on Joe’s face.

“One issue. They only had three left, so we’ll have to double up on one of them.”

They look amongst eachother for a few moments, trying to decide who the lucky two should be, when Joe shouts “nose goes!” and he and Andy quickly press their fingers to the tips of their noses, leaving Pete and Patrick standing there wondering what the fuck just happened.

“Well, looks like you two are the lucky winners,” Andy says with a grin.

“No big. I’ll teach ‘Trick to jetski like a pro.” Pete wraps an arm around Patrick’s shoulders and gives him a good-natured shake.

The jetski place hadn’t _really_ been almost out of rentals, but Andy isn’t about to tell Pete and Patrick that. It would spoil his plan. The jetskis are relatively small, made to fit one person, but Pete scoots forward enough that Patrick can just press in behind him, his front to the bassist’s back, arms wrapped around his midsection. 

It’s pretty fun, all in all. Andy keeps an eye on Pete and Patrick’s jetski to see if either of them are making any moves on eachother, but he keeps getting distracted by Joe, who’s edging near to the buoy that separates where the jetskis are allowed to be and where swimmers and surfers are. 

“Ten points if you hit someone!” Joe shouts, speeding near a stray paddleboarder and turning his rental sharply, splashing water everywhere. Andy’s laughing so hard he doesn’t notice Pete trying to pull some stunt on his own jetski, and only catches the tail end of the whole scene, when Patrick is thrown off from the back and lands in the ocean, soppy and annoyed.

Patrick’s treading water as Pete pulls up to him, offering a hand, which the younger man pointedly declines to take. “I think I’m just gonna swim back to the beach and watch you guys,” he says, and Pete frowns.

“Sorry about that,” Pete says, and Patrick waves him off. 

“It’s no big deal. The water is freezing, anyway. Beach sounds nice right about now.”

With that, he swims off toward the shore. Andy grits his teeth. Plan 1: foiled.

\- - - 

In the wake of his first failed attempt, Joe decides to go with something a bit more basic.

They’re at another venue prepping for a show when he pulls out his phone, putting himself, Patrick, and Pete into a groupchat. 

_hey guys_ , he texts, and Pete immediately changes the chat name to a collection of different emojis.

After a few moments, Patrick responds, _What’s up?_

_THeres a really heavy amp in the utility closet backstage do u guys think you can lift it out for me? im busy right now_

_what’s in it for us_ , Pete replies. Joe mentally rolls his eyes.

_My eternal love and gratitude??_

_aww i thought i already had both of those. thought we were gratidudes._

_Pete, let’s just go get it._

_ffffine_ , Pete texts back to Patrick, and the chat goes dead. Joe assumes they’re both on their way to the utility closet and enacts phase two of his plan.

He spots them in the hallway and waits until the door has been opened to sneak up behind them. Pete goes in first, followed by Patrick, and then they’re both in the tiny space, looking around for the nonexistent amp.

Joe, quickly as possible, shuts the door and locks it from the outside.

“Dude, did you shut the door?” he hears Pete ask Patrick, who replies with a flustered “no!”. Joe can hear a bit of floundering and one or both of them simultaneously jiggling the doorknob and pounding on the door.

“It’s really tight in here,” Patrick mutters, and Pete laughs a bit.

“I wonder if all of the air can go out of a closet? Like in coffins and shit, when you’re in there for too long and you’ve breathed up everything,” Pete says.

“I don’t want to find out. Someone has to walk by eventually.”

“I’ll call Joe.”

Joe grins. He’s already set his cellphone to immediately switch to voice, and he can hear Pete’s frustrated sigh as he finds out.

There’s a bit more knocking and cries aimed at some passerby to get them out, and Joe can only hope his plan is working. It’s a tiny space, he figures. Enough time pressed up together is bound to bring some emotions out. Maybe turn up the sexual tension a bit.

Until he hears Pete say something about a card and the lock, and then he’s sliding something between the door and the doorframe and jiggling the lock out of place. Joe’s careful to step out of sight when the closet door swings open. “Knew that Starbucks cards had more than one use,” Pete says proudly.

“Where’d you learn that trick?” Patrick asks, clearly bewildered.

“Movies. You can slide the card in and depending on the kind of lock, it can slide it out of place so you can open the door. Pretty sweet, huh?”

Joe’s a bit disheartened at this point. Still zero for two.

\- - - 

Andy’s determined to succeed this time around, if only to prove to Joe that he _can_ win.

They’re in Chicago for a bit and he decides to call in a favor with an old friend. Ricky, who manages the jumbotrons and other screens at the United Center, hooks him up with some tickets to a Bulls game.

He convinces the other guys to go; Pete, in particular, is extremely enthusiastic about the idea, and bounces around all day. It’s always fun to be back in Chicago with the band, in their home city and able to watch the sports teams most of them follow, live.

The UC is pretty packed when they get there. The Bulls are playing the Cavs, and it promises to be a good game. Andy’s a bit more focused on the real favor he called Ricky for. During halftime, he plans to have them point the kisscam at Pete and Patrick. It’s a dick move, sure, but they technically don’t even have to kiss. A kiss on the forehead, some sort of bro-kiss, whatever. It’s just meant to get the idea of kissing into their heads. Give them a bit of a kickstart.

Hell, if anything, Andy knows he’ll be one-upping Joe; he’s heard the bitching fallout of the guitarist’s other failures.

Derrick Rose is on fire and the gametime passes pretty quickly. It’s exciting to watch. Andy nearly misses the fact that it’s halftime, and special announcements start popping up on the jumbotrons.

He texts Ricky their seat numbers and gets a confirmation back that the camera will be aimed at Pete’s and Patrick’s two particular seats in about two minutes.

“Hey,” Pete says, “I’m gonna go get some nachos. Anyone want anything?”

“Can you get me a water?” Patrick says, and Pete gives him a thumbs up. With that, he leaves. Andy almost loses his shit.

When the kisscam is pointed at their seats, Patrick’s sitting alone, looking at something on his phone. The chair next to him is empty. It’s a bit awkward, until a few people in the crowd realize that Patrick _fucking_ Stump is up on the big screen, and they start to cheer. A lot of people don’t know who the hell he is but cheer anyway because, hey, a probably famous person out of their natural element isn’t something you get to see every day.

A few minutes later Pete pops back with nachos and a water, and Andy is convinced that some higher deity is either: 1. fucking with him, or 2. doesn’t want Patrick Stump and Pete Wentz to fuck with eachother.

\- - - 

“I think,” Joe says, “we might need to work together on this one.”

Andy nods. “It’s probably for the best.”

They sit down and begin to outline Operation: Make Patrick and Pete Realize How Much They _Like_ Like Eachother and End The Unbearable Sexual Tension That Plagues ½ of the Band.

Or, for short, Operation: Get Patrick and Pete to Bone.

\- - -

Patrick’s a bit skeptical when he gets the text from Andy.

_Hey, wanna have dinner tonight? there’s this good place downtown. Haven’t caught up with just you in a while._

He shoots back a quick _Sure!_ and Andy replies with a smiley face and some Googlemaps directions to the establishment in question.

_Oh, it’s a little fancy, so dress up a bit._

Patrick smiles a bit. Andy must’ve picked the place because he knows Patrick loves to dress up but never really gets to, between what they tend to wear onstage and the fact that the only occasions he really _needs_ to dress up for are, like, super formal dinners and weddings. It’s a bit nice to put on a suit jacket and tie and get out of all the black jackets and pants for once.

He pulls up to a nice restaurant, and finds there’s already a reservation for two set at seven. The hostess flashes him a bright smile and leads him to a small table quartered off in the dimly-lit section of the place, a candle flickering on the table. It’s weirdly romantic for Andy’s tastes, but Patrick shrugs it off.

Approximately five minutes later, Pete Wentz is seated at his table. Patrick’s more than a bit skeptical now.

“I thought I was meeting Andy here?” Patrick asks, and Pete blinks once. Twice. Furrows his brow.

“Joe told me he would be here.”

Patrick presses his lips together, miffed.

“I think we’re being set up.”

“What?”

“I think Joe and Andy are trying to set us up.”

“Set us up how? Like, on a date?”

Patrick nods. Pete is silent, sitting with his hands pressed against his thighs, obviously still processing.

“You look nice,” Patrick says, a bit to break the tension, but mostly because Pete really does look nice. He’s in a white dress shirt and black pants that are pretty tight, but Patrick’s not complaining. He looks crisp, clean. Patrick loves seeing him out of the normal cutoff metal band t-shirts and his other bandwear he tends to sport.

“You, uh - you do too,” Pete replies, with a subdued smile.

They look at eachother for a few moments. Pete’s eyes are tender, as if he’s realized _why_ Joe and Andy would set them up together like this.

Patrick decides to bite the bullet.

“Pete, I-”

“Patrick-”

Pete stares at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. Patrick can’t help but join him; the other man’s laughter is infectious. Always has been.

“You go first,” Patrick says after a bit, and Pete’s still looking at him with mirth in his eyes, like Patrick is the sun or some shit. It makes Patrick melt a bit inside.

“I, um. Have a bit of a confession to make, I guess,” Pete begins, and Patrick’s chest tightens. He hopes, prays, mentally barters with whatever higher power is out there that the Pete’s not about to let him down easy or something. “I really like you. A lot. In the bad pickup line, want to go to a drive-in and make out with you and buy matching Christmas sweaters and have a heart and a kissy face emoji by your contact name in my phone kind of way. God, that feels good to say.”

Patrick lets out a breath just as Pete holds his in.

“I -” he begins, catching himself before he stutters. “I like you a lot, too. _A lot_.”

The ambiance of the restaurant is drowned out as Pete just looks at him. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime kind of look, like Pete’s eyes are some sort of camera and Patrick is his Kodak moment. Patrick reaches across the table and lays his hand over the other man’s, and is met with fingers interlocking his, gripping his own tight.

It’s a moment he wants to cherish forever.

After a bit of quiet breathing and just savoring _finally_ having confessed, Pete takes out his phone. “Guess we’d better send them an update, huh?” he says with a grin, opening the camera app and facing it toward himself.

He leans across the table, fingers threading in the hair at the back of Patrick’s neck, and presses their lips together. Patrick leans into the kiss, eyes closed, and hears the snap of the camera. They kiss for a few seconds more, until Pete breaks it and quickly sends the snapshot to both Joe and Andy.

“I’d caption it, but I want to get back to kissing you and that would take too long,” Pete says. He taps on twice on the screen and hits send. “I just put a caterpillar emoji and an umbrella. Do you think they’ll understand?”

Patrick laughs softly and grabs the back of the other man’s head. He can feel Pete’s lips curved upwards in a grin as they press against his own.

**Author's Note:**

> my first fob fic and i'm so happy  
> feel free to come talk to me or hit me up on my [tumblr!](http://kenway.tumblr.com/) <3 the title is from a footloose song.


End file.
